


Hellcat

by lightsaroundyourvanity



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Cunnilingus, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:04:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1263982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsaroundyourvanity/pseuds/lightsaroundyourvanity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You wanna?" Rosa asks, and that's all it takes, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellcat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoreThanSlightly (cadignan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadignan/gifts).



> happy birthday to ray!!

It's a party at a bar, a birthday or some work victory or maybe Rosa wasn't paying attention when Boyle told her what this was for. It was changing in the precinct and wandering to the bar in a pack, and Amy's wearing this red dress made out of some silky looking fabric, and Rosa can't stop herself from staring at the way it flirts with her curves.

Inside, Rosa can't stop staring at Amy seated at the bar, bare legs crossed. At the movement in her throat and the pout to her lips when Peralta challenges her to go shot for shot. And the longer the night wears on the better Santiago keeps looking. And maybe all that becomes why when Rosa buys Amy a drink and slides it towards her, and Amy exclaims "ugh, I could _kiss_ you!" Rosa doesn't laugh and turn away, she leans forward instead.

"You wanna?" Rosa asks, and that's all it takes, really.

 The bite of a dare in her voice mingles with an even stronger bite of whiskey-drunk. The challenge, half-slurred, half spoken with unexpected mischief and entirely expected candour, would have been difficult enough for Amy to resist under normal circumstances; never mind at a bar, tipsy, ensconced in a cloud of good-natured laughter and rowdy celebration. Never mind while perched face to face with Rosa, elbows on the bartop and heads bent towards one another. Rosa has poured herself into a tight black bandage dress that emphasizes the endless lines of her tanned legs. Amy's eyes keep flickering from Rosa's legs to her lips, painted glossy red and full, and then back to her legs again. She licks her own lips, which have gone suddenly dry.

 Rosa takes all of this in in an instant, along with the unmistakeable flicker of desire in Amy's stare. She is a detective, after all (albeit a drunk one.) When Amy licks her lips, Rosa follows the motion with her eyes, guilelessly, and then drags her gaze up to meet with Amy's and hold. "You wanna?" she asks again.

 Amy doesn't say yes, but she does close the space between them and crush her mouth to Rosa's, which is better than any answer Rosa could have asked for. Amy kisses with straightforward purpose, like everything she does, and Rosa's smiling against the expert flick of her tongue, the tiny whimpering sound Amy makes when Rosa bites gently down on her lower lip. She can hear the boys hooting and catcalling them both in the background, but since Rosa really couldn't give a fuck about any of them right now, she ignores them in favour of the hungry promise of Amy's lips. She skims her hand along Amy's jawline and cups the back of her neck. Rosa's hair falls forward as they continue to kiss. It curtains their faces, but as a mode of privacy, its a truly flimsy semblance, a fact that Rosa is forced to come to terms with when the bright flash of a camera phone startles both of them apart.

 Amy's cheeks are stained pink; her lips are ruddy. Her eyes dart around the bar in a wild search for the source of the camera flash. It's an easy hunt ––Peralta looms mere feet away, grinning like a hyena.

"Score one for the spank bank," he says, looking admiringly at his phone.

"Peralta!" Amy yelps. "What the fuck!"

"Don't stop on my account, ladies," says Jake. He's still staring down at his phone. "Although if you wanted to find better lighting, I certainly wouldn't be opposed." he waves his phone. "Camera phones are crap in dim settings, don't you think?"

"If you don't delete that right now, I will _show you_ crap in dim settings," Amy snaps. As a threat, it doesn't make a whole ton of sense, but she says it with enough feeling that Jake visibly cringes under her glare. Not enough to back down, though ––at least, not to Amy, who brings out the pigtail-tugging seventh grader in Peralta more than anybody Rosa has ever seen. And considering the antics Rosa witnessed out of him during their time at the academy (a gambit involving a rented camel and a cheese souffléstill burns unfortunately fresh in Rosa's memory), that's quite the feat.

So when Peralta cringes, but only pulls his phone closer to his chest, nobody is surprised. And whether it's the distraught look on Amy's face, or the bleak prospect of having her personal life splashed across Jake Peralta's Facebook page, buried amidst tacky buzzfeed quizzes and asinine status updates, Rosa can't say, but a second later she's jumped out of her seat and stalked three paces towards Peralta, whose smirk instantly falls away.

"Phone." says Rosa, "Now."

 "Aw, come on," Jake protests. "I'm just fooling around."

"I'm not." Rosa holds out her hand. "Phone."

Jake hands it to her, gingerly, and winces when a second later Rosa crushes it under her heel. 

"Happy now?" he asks.

 Rosa looks him up and down. "No." She glances towards Amy, still perched on her barstool, openmouthed, stunned. "Let's get out of here."

 

 

It doesn't take long for Amy to collect herself. They've barely left the bar before she coughs, looks at Rosa sidelong, and asks "So, uh. My place or yours?"

 Rosa is silent for a very long moment. "My place." she says finally. "No way could I fuck at your apartment with all that knick knack crap. Would feel like eating out my grandma."

 Amy's cheeks colour pink. "We're going to... fuck?" The obscenity sounds awkward on her tongue.

 Rosa grins, showing teeth. "What do you think?"

 "I think..." Amy trails off, but a second later, her jaw sets. "I think yeah. Yeah. Let's go to your place."

 Rosa slings her arm across Amy's shoulder as they walk. "Great."

 The walk to Rosa's apartment is a short one. She wasn't kidding when she said she lived close to the precinct. They walk obscenely close the whole way, laughing, their hips bumping together. Rosa's arm never quite slips from Amy's shoulders. When they reach the front door of Rosa's apartment, it puts Rosa in the perfect position to curl Amy towards her for a kiss.

 Amy is as wonderful to kiss here as she is in the bar and Rosa fumbles blindly in her bag, suddenly wanting very much to be indoors with Amy but utterly refusing to stop kissing her. Eventually, she finds it, presses Amy against the doorframe and keeps kissing her while she shoves the key into the lock. The door swings open, and they both stumble a little as they fall inside.

 Rosa kicks the door shut and pulls away from Amy so she can tug at the zipper on the back of her own dress. Rosa is forthright at the best of times, and Amy is driving her mad with wanting. She yanks down the zipper and shoves her dress over her hips to Amy's wide eyed stare.

 It falls to the floor in a puddle. Rosa had dressed carefully that day; shell pink bra with scalloped edgings and a tiny crystal heart dangling from the centre; matching lacy panties and sheer thigh high stockings. Amy's jaw actually drops at the sight, and Rosa's lips split open in a short, smug smile. She fights the urge to toss her hair and preen at the sight of Amy, mouth agape and actually without words for once in her goddamn life.

 "What the fuck are you wearing?" Amy finally manages to splutter.

 Woah. Hot enough to make a good girl curse. Rosa stops resisting, and shakes out her glossy curls, smile widening. "I know you grew up with brothers, Santiago, but don't tell me you've never seen lingerie before."

 Amy's jaw snaps shut, and she looks comically offended. "Duh. Of course I have. I'm like a lingerie expert. In college they called me the lingerie lingerer." Amy winces. "No they didn't. I don't know why I said that. I don't even know what that means, but it sounds terrible. I'm just––"

 "Amy." Rosa's eyes shutter closed. "Shut up."

 "––surprised." Amy finishes, ignoring Rosa (well, her words at least.) "Pink and white lace?" her eyes run up and down Rosa's body. "I would have never guessed. Gosh. You really were a ballerina, weren't you?"

 Rosa shrugs, suddenly self-conscious. She's fucked a dozen guys, ranging from tough to downright scary, and never felt the urge to shrink in upon herself the way she does under Amy's stare. "What?" Rosa asks. She crosses her arms across her chest defensively. "I can't like girly shit?"

"God, no," Amy breathes. "I mean yes. I mean, of course you can. I'm so happy you do. You look amazing." Amy takes step forward and her hands circle Rosa's wrists, gently pry Rosa's arms out of their defensive pose. "Really. I'm speechless." Amy stands on her tiptoes and kisses Rosa on the lips.

Speechless is a good look on Santiago. It's fucking great, Rosa thinks, as their kiss deepens and her lips part against Amy's. Amy's arms wind around Rosa's neck, and Rosa slides her hands down Amy's shoulders and arms and waist until she can cup the curve of her ass and squeeze. Amy lets out a tiny sigh into Rosa's mouth, and their tongues touch and roll together, and their bodies press even closer. Rosa squeezes Amy's ass again, harder, with purpose. She's still surprised when Amy hitches her legs around her waist ("Sant _iago,_ " Peralta's voice echoes, ghostlike, in Rosa's head. "Who knew there was a little hellcat in there?") But Amy is light, and Rosa is strong, and Amy's dress is riding up around her thighs and her thighs are clenching around Rosa's hips, so Rosa's surprise is quickly drowned out by a rush of hot desire. She keeps kissing Amy and walks them both backwards until Amy's back connects with solid wall and Rosa can rub against her until Amy's sighing dirty into Rosa's mouth again.

"Bedroom," Amy gasps.

 "Fuck the bedroom," Rosa responds. She kisses the curve of Amy's neck and digs her nails into her thighs. Rosa knows that they can't hold this position forever, that her arms will tire out and that neither can really lick or kiss or suck the way they want to right now. But she wants to ride the frenetic wave of desire that Amy ignites in her, as hot and heady as anger but a dozen times sweeter. Wants to hear Amy groan against her skin and into her mouth while Rosa presses her against that wall until they're both begging for it and ready to topple. Then Amy whimpers, "Rosa," and Rosa remembers that Amy likes pretty things; pillows and bedskirts and candles and shit, so she lets Amy slide back to her feet, cups Amy's chin in her hand and kisses her with a softer touch.

"Follow me, Santiago," says Rosa, and she tugs Amy further into her apartment.

Rosa doesn't have any candles, and she's not totally sure how a bedskirt even goes on, but the sheets are black, and the bed is there. She prods Amy until the backs of her knees are bumping against the bed, and then Rosa pushes her onto it. Rosa slides her hands up Amy's thighs and under the hemline of her dress, rucking it around her waist. They're both laughing a little when they collaborate to pull the dress over Amy's head and toss it aside. Rosa kisses Amy again, and her laughter melts into a sigh.

Amy leans back, and Rosa crawls over her, and then they're both lying on the bed, still kissing, legs tangled together and hands carding through hair and touching bare skin. Rosa's hand brushes Amy's breast, and then her waist, and then lower, stroking Amy between her legs through her plain red panties (that actually match her dress, Rosa notices.) Amy makes a tiny noise, a punctuated "oh!" and Rosa strokes again, teasing, exploratory promise in her touch. Even through her panties, Amy is hot and soaked, and Rosa worms her other arm underneath Amy so that she can unhook the clasp of Amy's bra and help her wriggle out of it. Amy's breasts fall free. They're small and round and sit high, nipples pink and taut. Rosa follows her first instinct, which is to bury her face between them and inhale, and her second, which is to take one nipple into her mouth and suck down hard, still rubbing Amy through her panties, arousal making her fingers damp even through the fabric. Amy's hips buck and she makes a sound that shouldn't be legal, and Rosa can't stand the tease any longer. She slips her fingers beneath the waistband and runs them between the lips of Amy's cunt, feels coarse, neatly groomed hair and soft heat and wet. Both women gasp; Rosa from the touch, Amy from the feel, and when Rosa slides two fingers inside Amy, Amy's gasp winds into a high-pitched whine.

Rosa crooks her fingers and starts fucking Amy slowly, moving down her body as she works and  peeling off Amy's underwear. When she's finished, Rosa is face to pussy with Amy. Her tongue darts out to taste Amy, lapping over Amy's slick clit, and Amy jerks, her whole body tightens. Rosa takes that as encouragement and licks Amy again, faster, burying her face in Amy and kissing her clit and lavishing attention with her tongue until her lips and nose and chin are messy with it. Her fingers thrust harder into Amy as Amy pants and writhes, faster, deeper, making wet sounds. Rosa hauls one of Amy's legs over her shoulder to give her mouth even wider access and feels Amy's toes curl against her spine.

Soon Amy's moans are coming faster, louder, more frantically, hips lifting, hands clawing at Rosa's sheets or knotting themselves in Rosa's hair. She's making sounds, saying words, but it's coming out garbled, but Rosa thinks she hears something close to _I'm coming_ right before Amy's whole body seizes up and stutters, and a stream of clear liquid squirts from her, floods Rosa's tongue and drips across her cheeks.

Rosa lifts her head from between Amy's legs. She puts the back of her hand to her mouth and wipes it clean before glancing up at Amy, who's eyes are closed, who's face is flushed red, who's chest is still heaving with shuddering, wrung out breaths.

"Jesus," Rosa mutters, and then she crawls back up Amy's body to kiss Amy lightly on the lips. Amy's eyes flick open like Rosa has switched her back on. Her lips part, and she cups the back of Rosa's neck in her hand.

"That was incredible," Amy says when they break their kiss.

Rosa smiles. "Didn't suck."

Amy startles Rosa by rolling them both over then until she can straddle Rosa, knees firmly planted on either side of Rosa's body. Amy leans down and kisses Rosa again. "It's time to show you why at the academy they said I was a fast learner _and_ efficient."

And fuck, that shouldn't be hot, it really shouldn't. But rasped in Amy's fucked-out voice, coupled with the filthy press of Amy's lips on Rosa's throat, it might as well be the hottest line that Rosa's ever heard, and she groans and spreads her legs.

"Prove it," Rosa gasps.

To the immense satisfaction of both, Amy more than does.


End file.
